


A Member of the Team

by koalathebear



Series: Fragments Prism [1]
Category: Homeland
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koalathebear/pseuds/koalathebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Completely non-shippy, this is set during season 2, here are a few missing scenes that are just an exploration of a few things that I was wondering about.</p><p>1.  Why did Quinn care so much about Galvez being injured - after all 7 other agents were killed<br/>2.  How did Quinn end up joining the gang?  Between seasons 2 and 3 he seems to have gone from being Black Ops guy brought in for a very specific targeted kill to then being a member of Saul's team.<br/>3.  What did Quinn think/feel when the Langley bombing happened? </p><p>You can read more and watch all of the relevant Galvez scenes over in this <a href="http://koalathebear.livejournal.com/1466451.html">post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Member of the Team

**Author's Note:**

> I've included this in the [Fragments Prism](http://archiveofourown.org/series/68814) because even though they're not necessarily connected, in my mind they're all part of the same world.

"Sir?"

Quinn looked up from his computer where he had been typing furiously before the polite voice had interrupted him.

"Yes Galvez?"

"I heard you speaking with Carrie earlier … I was wondering if I could come with you today… " Galvez asked with slight hesitation in his voice. "To Gettysburg."

Quinn stopped typing and stared blankly at the conscientious analyst with the quiet manner. 

A serious young man with dark intelligent eyes, he had proved the least hostile member of Saul's team assigned to the Brody surveillance. There were times the young man's attentiveness bordered on hero worship and Quinn found himself feeling as embarrassed as he was flattered. 

Over the last few weeks, he and Galvez had occasionally been the only two in the surveillance room, keeping an eye on the monitors. He had developed a respect for the soft-spoken young man's diligent work ethic and attention to detail. 

Galvez also had a calm, unruffled way of working with Carrie even when she was at her most volatile and unreasonable that was very impressive. 

Half an hour later when discussing the proposed team composition, Quinn decided to mention Galvez's request. "Galvez has asked if he can join the team to investigate the tailor shop. Either of you have a problem with that?"

Carrie and Saul both looked a little surprised.

"He's still quite green," Saul mentioned.

"He's also very good," Carrie interrupted. 

"I can see that. His mother is Lebanese, his father's Guatemalan and he's fluent in Arabic and Spanish. Useful guy to have around," Quinn remarked.

"Estes is the latest in a long line of bosses who have been pricks," Carrie drawled and Saul gave her a reproving look. "They keep him back because he's good at his job."

"Yeah, he told me he put in for operations three years in a row," Quinn told them.

"I have no issue with him going," Carrie told him.

Saul shook his head. "Me neither – he's extremely thorough. Like I said though, he's relatively green in terms of field work and will probably need some guidance."

"Well, everyone's gotta start somewhere," Quinn said with a shrug. "I'm happy to have him along," he told them. "I’m not much of a babysitter but he does good work and I could use the help."

"Then the ayes have it," Saul said with a smile. 

*

"Thank you so much for this opportunity, sir," Galvez said from the backseat of the car as they drove swiftly towards Gettysburg.

"You don't have to call me sir," Quinn said with a smile in his voice. 

The convoy of cars pulled up at the rear entrance of the tailor shop.

A tall, grim-faced agent Quinn stepped outside the door to meet them, pulling off his rubber gloves as he studied the new arrivals. "All clear," he advised as Quinn and Galvez got out of the car.

Galvez followed close behind as Quinn walked into the shop, looking around sharply. "Make sure the evidence response team has all the support they need," he told Galvez who was pulling on rubber gloves. "And crack the whip – we should have been here weeks ago." Galvez nodded emphatically. 

The place was a damned mess and it wasn't going to be an easy task sifting through the garbage to get find actual intel - Galvez's thoroughness and attention to detail would be invaluable.

Quinn walked further into the shop, staring around the slightly dingy decor, taking in the rolls of fabric, the boxes of papers and the tired, weathered green carpet. The whole place smelled of dust, stale cigarettes and neglect. 

"All right everybody, we're looking for names of contacts, materials suppliers, anything out of the ordinary. If you have a question, ask – no detail is too small." He turned and faced the first agent who had been standing by the door. "Uh – you?"

"Chaplin, sir."

"You, you and you – come with me," he ordered. He walked into one of the back rooms with Chaplin and two other agents at his heels. "Start here," he ordered the others as he walked into the store front with Chaplin. Staring through the glass of the entrance narrowly, he turned and walked back towards Chaplin who was standing by the counter waiting for further instructions.

"It's a small town so there's likely to be some theorising about our presence here. So - any Looky Lous drop by wanting to know what we're up to, tell them we're … " he looked around in frustration. "Tell them …"

"What?" Chaplin demanded

Quinn picked up a ledger and handed it to Chapin using a glove. "Sales tax audit," he suggested, grabbing at straws.

The two returned to the back room and Quinn drew the red curtain to close off a view of their activities. 

He walked past two agents wearing gloves who were rifling through receipts, frowning. Who knew if anything would be found? It had been weeks since they had first started watching the place and it was entirely possible that anything of value had been spirited out a long time ago. 

Not for the first time, Quinn found himself feeling frustrated with the slow progress of the operation. It was almost as if Brody knew and was prolonging the process deliberately even though Carrie would never admit something like that.

*

"Anything?" Quinn asked as a gloved Galvez walked past him an hour later.

"Doesn’t seem like it. Not yet," Galvez told him as he pulled open another drawer of even more bundled receipts and random pieces of paper. 

Quinn's phone rang and he glanced down at the number briefly. "Yeah, Carrie," he greeted.

"Brody just talked to Roya," Carrie told him unceremoniously, cutting past any greeting. Typical Carrie.

"Yeah? How'd that go?" he asked.

"I’m not quite sure. She knows you're at Gettysburg," Carrie's voice was troubled.

"She does – how?" His feeling of unease increased, his frown deepening.

"Maybe they're watching … I don't know. She said there's something there – have you found anything?" Carrie asked him urgently.

Quinn gave a slight shake of his head. "A lot of cigarette butts and receipts. Seems the guy was quite a record-keeper, I've got six guys going through it all."

"I don't think she was talking about receipts. I think it was something bigger," Carrie told him with a frown.

"Like what?" he questioned.

"I don't know," she admitted honestly.

"Well what did she say?"

"It wasn't what she said exactly …" Carrie's voice trailed off.

"Another one of your hunches?" Quinn queried, no impatience or irritation in his voice, just calm acceptance.

There was a long silence. "Just …"

"Keep my eyes open," he said, finishing the sentence. "Thanks," he told her softly.

After hanging up, he stood with the phone in his hand, looking around the room, the frown still on his face.

"Galvez?" he called out, his expression very distracted.

"Yeah?" Galvez replied from an adjoining room where he was seated at a desk going through papers.

"Call for reinforcements. I want back-up here," Quinn told him firmly.

Galvez gave him a long and searching look but promptly left the room to make the necessary calls. Meanwhile, Quinn surveyed the large, empty expanse of wall in the back room. Knocking on it, he ascertained that it was hollow. No surprises. Carrie Mathison was right yet again. She had the best instincts of anyone he'd ever known. Shame for her that she had made herself into the Cassandra of the CIA.

"Sir," Galvez said as he returned. "We've got FBI SWAT coming, they're about an hour out. State troopers will be here sooner." He stared at Quinn narrowly. "Can I ask you what this is about?" Galvez asked him.

Before he could respond, they both heard a noise. At the sound of the front door of the shop opening, Quinn stiffened, immediately reaching for his gun and making his way to the front of the store, followed by Galvez and several of the other agents, their guns also readied.

A burst of noise exploded through the air as assault rifles were fired. Quinn was only able to get a glimpse of a handful of men in full SWAT uniforms before he was forced to retreat. His body screamed with agony as something slammed into his stomach violently, knocking the air from his lungs. Thrown heavily to the ground, he lay there on his back feeling the blood pouring from his body as he heard his men being gunned down around him. Furniture was pushed aside noisily as the intruders cut a hole into the back wall to remove a large, heavy storage box.

Two of the men lifted the box out and carried it from the store, walking past the bodies without even looking at the results of their massacre.

Lying on the ground, his grey eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling, Quinn kept himself very still until he heard the sound of the front door closing. Only once the men were gone did he allow himself to blink and choke slightly from the blood sliding from his mouth and pooling at the back of his throat.

With a monumental effort, he propped himself up onto his elbows and reached for his phone to call for help as his other hand tried to staunch the heavy flow of blood from the gunshot wounds.

*

When Carrie came to visit Quinn at Walter Reed, she brought him a thick file of photographs from the Gettysburg slaughter and placed it beside his bed. He looked pale and weak still, his mouth pressed tight from the pain and his eyes a little overly alert.

"No flowers?" he quipped. With hands that weren't quite steady, Quinn opened the file and spread the photographs out on his hospital blanket. 

Six Federal agents were dead.

Even as they were rushing him into surgery, Quinn had been desperately shouting out details of everything that he remembered from the scene. A description of the men, an approximation of the size of the chest. "Find the fuckers," he had muttered as the anaesthesia and the pain had robbed him of consciousness.

In characteristic Carrie style, the pleasantries were kept to a minimum. 

"Geez Quinn, you look like shit," she had exclaimed as she had entered the room like an avenging virago.

"Thanks," he had told her with a wry smile. By now, he knew Carrie too well to be offended by her lack of tact and polish.

"I'm glad you're ok," she had mumbled inadequately.

"You tried to warn me."

"I was too late," she had replied, her mouth quivering slightly and he had shaken his head.

"Shit happens. Tell me what's happening," he had ordered and she had paced the room restlessly, recounting details of Roya Hammad's latest conversation with Brody.

"Why does Roya care so much about Walden?" Quinn asked, looking down at the folder and papers strewn across his lap. His gaze fell upon a photograph of the bleeding Galvez and he felt a stab of guilt.

Carrie walked the room, arms folded across her chest. "Maybe he's the target."

"Again?" Quinn questioned.

"Well - the World Trade Centre was hit in '93 and was the target again more recently you may recall."

Quinn gave a gasp of pain as he lay in the bed. "You see Galvez?" he asked.

Carrie nodded. "Yeah." She shook her head sadly. "It doesn't look good."

Quinn closed his eyes. "Oh shit."

"They told his parents to come."

Quinn exhaled slowly, his breath ragged. It was ridiculous but he felt like someone who had allowed his kid brother to get hurt on his watch. All he could think about was Galvez's puppy-like obedience and deference. Seven men were dead but for some reason he felt ridiculously guilty about allowing his loyal flunky to be so grievously injured. He felt responsible in a way given that he had been the one to ask that Galvez accompany him to Gettysburg.

Changing the topic, he asked,"Did you get any word back from the lab?

"Well the good news is that there were no radioactive contaminants in the shop," Carrie told him.

"So it's not a dirty bomb."

"But judging by the RDX residue and the fact that it took two guys to move that thing, they've got enough C4 to level an embassy … a synagogue …"

"And they're in the wind," Quinn muttered.

"Yeah."

Quinn swallowed hard and pressed his button. "I gotta get out of this dress," he muttered hoarsely, pulling the cannula out of his hand.

"They're not discharging you," Carrie told him, staring at him disapprovingly.

" _I'm_ discharging me." He pushed himself into a sitting position, the pain making him exhale sharply as he carefully shifted himself off the hospital bed.

"Where's Saul?" he demanded

"He went to the SuperMax in Waynesburg to see Eileen." Carrie raises her eyebrows, her expression clearly conveying her views on the usefulness of the venture.

" _That's_ our big move? Rattle a chick who's been locked up for months?" Quinn asked incredulously as he stood at the narrow cupboard looking for his clothes.

"It's a Hail Mary."

Quinn dropped his hospital gown to the ground and Carrie exclaimed in disgust. "Quinn! Right in front of me?" she demanded, turning around quickly but not before getting an eyeful of Quinn's naked butt cheeks.

"Like you've never seen a dick before," he told her, turning around to look at her witheringly. She continued to feign puritanical outrage as she stared out the window.

*

Returning from the disastrous raid based on Aileen Morgan's information, Quinn let himself back into the surveillance room carrying his huge cup of coffee. 

His gaze rested on Saul sitting in the darkened room, staring up fixedly at the photograph of Aileen Morgan on the white board, melancholic regret on his bearded face. They all knew what had taken place in Waynesburg that day and Quinn had seen the photographs of Morgan's blood-soaked body lying on the ground of the prison.

"It's tough luck," he murmured, going to put his bag down on a desk.

"I got emotional. I wanted to believe her," Saul said in a low voice, clearly greatly shaken by the events of the day. Even after the frustration of raiding the wrong house, Quinn felt a stab of pity for the almost pitiful Morgan - so desperate to be free from her prison that death was preferable to life.

"Well they do that to us sometimes." Quinn swallowed hard. "Get under our skin." His face was tight with sympathy even as his gut throbbed with pain. Saul Berenson was bleeding sorrow and self-recrimination and the mood in the room was heavy. Quinn also knew that he'd over-taxed his recovering body and he was paying for it now.

"It was sloppy," Saul muttered to himself, rising to his feet and walking to the board. "I know better," he muttered as he removed Aileen's photograph and pinned it to the board with photographs of the deceased.

The two men stood side by side, staring at the white board with the faces of the dead.

"Any word on Galvez?" Saul asked him.

The question took Quinn by surprise and he found that it hurt almost as much as the fucking wound in his gut. Working alone definitely had its advantages, you didn't have to feel responsible and so damned distraught when your team members were hit.

"Well he's still dying," Quinn replied expressionlessly.

There was a long silence.

"You're a real diplomat," Saul told him, disapproval in his dark eyes. 

Quinn blinked and swallowed hard. He hesitated before speaking. "He was good in the shop …I hope you don't lose him." There was a hoarseness to his voice that betrayed his emotion. 

Saul didn't look at the younger man. "Yup. We've had enough losing lately," he agreed, his voice softer and tinged with understanding.

Quinn nodded his agreement and then returned to his desk with his coffee.

*

Galvez surprised everyone by surviving. Clearly he was a lot tougher than anyone else in the team had realised. He proceeded to cause even more surprise by walking into the room with his arm in a sling looking pale and weak just as Virgil was showing Saul and Quinn security camera footage of Nazir less than 20 minutes before Carrie's accident and disappearance.

"What the fuck are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Walter Reed," Quinn demanded, staring at the younger man who met his gaze steadily.

"I heard about Carrie … I want to help."

*

Ordinarily, Quinn wouldn't have been caught dead leaping to such insane assumptions, but with Nazir's seeming disappearance from the factory, they were all clutching at straws. Galvez as a Muslim fleeing the scene of the crime seemed very suspicious even though Quinn still couldn't quite bring himself to believe that Galvez was the mole.

When Galvez was located at the police blockade, Carrie was almost out of her mind with rage.

"Carrie – what are you doing?" Galvez demanded in shock as he was hauled out of his vehicle and thrown to the ground roughly.

"Shut up!" Carrie shouted at him.

"No weapons, he's clean." 

While Carrie was staring wildly around for signs of Nazir, Quinn was staring down into Galvez's face, a face that was contorted with shock and pain.

"Where is he?" Carrie roared at him as Galvez groaned in pain. "Godamnnit Danny – where did you take him?"

"Who?" Galvez demanded in genuine bewilderment.

"Abu Nazir, where is he?" she shrieked, her eyes wild and crazed.

"Carrie," Quinn's voice was very firm.

"Tell me!" she screamed again.

" _Carrie!_ He's bleeding!" Quinn told her firmly, seizing her by the shoulders to try to break through her rage.

"My stitches ripped open I was going to the hospital … " Galvez explained, his face contorted with pain.

"Let him up!" Quinn ordered, reaching down to help Galvez to his feet. "Let's get a medic," Quinn ordered, his arms about Galvez to support him.

*

"Shit … what a goddamned fuck up," Quinn muttered inadequately as he helped Galvez over to the back of the ambulance.

"You've torn your stitches open – we're going to have to get you to the hospital," the paramedic told him unnecessarily. The blood staining Galvez's shirt was growing darker.

"Carrie feels like shit, too – although I think she's too embarrassed to come and apologise," Quinn told him wryly, glancing over at Carrie who was standing some distance away trying very hard not to look in their direction.

That made Galvez smile weakly. "That I can believe. Tell her no hard feelings."

"You going up for Sainthood or something?" Quinn asked with a twisted smile.

"Heat of the moment … it's easy to jump to conclusions," Galvez told him wryly. "With the way I look, I'm used to people assuming the worst about me."

"Well it's not right and I'm sorry," Quinn told him firmly.

"Thanks. Means a lot," Galvez told him. "Tell Carrie it's ok..."

"You dragged yourself off your deathbed to come and help look for her, you two must go back a long time."

"I've worked with her for a while. She's been through absolute hell – but she's still always right."

"Rest up Galvez – we don't want to see you back until you're healed," he told him and Galvez nodded and smiled.

It was the last time he would ever speak with Danny Galvez. 

*

Quinn's face was expressionless as he looked down the growing list of people killed or injured during the explosion at Langley. Estes. Galvez. 

Carrie's name was listed among the missing. It was impossible for him to believe that she was dead and he was in the process of volunteering to search amongst the rubble when the call from Saul came through.

"Peter – I need to speak with you. Please come to my house as soon as you're able."

"I was about to start helping here," he started to explain. "Carrie's still missing."

"Carrie's alive, Peter. I need to talk to you now." The urgency in the older man's voice persuaded him and within the hour, he was at Saul's doorstep.

They man they called the Bear looked every single one of his years and more as he invited Quinn into his home.

"With Estes dead, they've put me in charge," Saul told him with a bewildered smile that was as confused as it was sorrowful.

"Do you think Brody did it?" Quinn asked him.

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"The video statement could have been used to implicate him," Quinn suggested.

"True," Saul conceded. "It's hard for me to believe that Nicholas Brody is entirely blameless though. He may not have been responsible but he's connected." Saul buried his face in his hands. "We've lost so many …"

"Galvez … poor son of a bitch," Quinn muttered. "Survived all of that but he's gone, too."

Saul nodded. "Why did you decide not to kill Brody?" he asked bluntly.

Quinn was silent.

"I know why Estes brought you on. It's clear that you elected not to terminate Brody."

Quinn exhaled. "Taking out Brody served no purpose except Estes' own agenda," Quinn told him bluntly. "Although if Brody did have anything to do with the bombing – if I'd killed him, all these people would still be alive."

"Like I said … as much as I believe that Brody is connected, I am not sure he actually did it … someone's gone to great efforts to make it look like he did it."

Quinn nodded.

"I suppose you're wondering why I asked you over here," Saul commented. "We've lost more than 200 of our people … Dar Adal has agreed to step out of the shadows to help me get the Agency back on its feet … I want to ask him to let you join my team as well – I need someone like you to help get to the bottom of this."

Quinn nodded. "Thank you for your confidence, sir."

"So that's a yes?" Saul asked, a faint smile coming into his tired eyes.

"Absolutely," Quinn told him.

Saul sighed heavily. "What happened to Estes and Walden was tragic … what happened to Walden's family … to people like Galvez was a goddamned crime."

"I'll do what I can to help, sir."

"I think the time for standing on ceremony is over, Peter. My name is Saul," he told the younger man and walked with him to the front door.

"Has Galvez's family been notified?" Quinn asked suddenly.

Saul nodded, exhaustion in his face. 

"Yes, they're on their way … perhaps you could have a few words with them – give them some comfort."

"OK. I can do that," Quinn agreed, his face very serious. It was the last he could do.

Watching Quinn walk to his car, it occurred to Saul Berenson that despite all of the tragic losses he had suffered, with Peter Quinn - his team had now been supplemented by the addition of a formidable albeit enigmatic ally.


End file.
